Joshual and his young mother

 

 

 

It promised to be one of those hot, muggy days such as you can only get in
the valley, and I was sweating before I even reached the kitchen. I popped a
soft drink from the refrigerator, stepped through the door to the patio, and
stopped dead in my tracks.

There, not ten feet in front of me, my young mother was

down on her hands and knees, scooping leaves out of the swimming pool, with her pert ass
thrust provocatively up in the air. She was wearing the bottom of a
persimmon-colored bikini and a loose-fitting, white tee shirt that swooped
way down. The outline of her cunt was painfully obvious where the material
of the bikini had snugged up against it and, gazing at her from the rear as
I was, I could see her breasts hanging down, like ripe fruit, in the subdued
light of the tee shirt.

My jeans started becoming intensely uncomfortable as my cock swelled in
appreciation of that tantalizing view, and I knew there was nothing for it
... I had to cum.

As quietly as I could, I stepped back through the door, set the soft drink
on the counter, and took the stairs two-at-a-time. The image of that
persimmon-colored pussy seemed to be burned into my retinae and, very
suddenly, the idea of plowing my prick into it - long and hard and often -
was the only thing I could think of.

I stepped into the bathroom quietly and had my prick in my hand even before
I closed the door. I leaned against the sink and closed my eyes, trying to
recall every curve and hollow of that beautiful ass, trying to remember
every nuance of light and shadow on those mar-velous tits, trying to imagine
what the warmth and texture of that slit would feel like as my rock hard
shaft slid into it. Slowly, teasingly, I began stroking my cock.

Oh, man, to be pushing through those pussy lips right then! To feel that
tight sleeve giving way to my swollen cockhead! To hear her moan with
pleasure as I impaled her on my throbbing root!

I started stroking faster, almost feeling the wetness of her, almost feeling
the warmth, then a slight noise behind me broke the thought and jerked me
out of my fantasy. My eyes snapped open in alarm, and there in the mirror -
arms folded and leaning against the bathroom door - was my mother.

"M ... Mom!" I stammered. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," she answered.

I braced myself for the tirade that I knew would follow, and was
flabbergasted when, rather than scolding me, she stepped up close and hooked
her left arm around my waist. "Here," she said evenly, "let me do that for
you."

She took my turgid prick in her hand, and started stroking me expertly, as
though she had performed this task a thousand and one times. I started to
protest, but the words wouldn't come. The warmth of her hand, the slow,
loving rhythm she was using to pump my hard shaft stifled them in my throat.
Our eyes met and locked in the mirror - Was that a hint of a smile on her
lips? Were those her breasts boring into my side? Was that her cunt grinding
against my hip? - and I just sort of relaxed and let her do it.

It didn't take long for the loving strokes to overwhelm me, for the pressure
to build. It didn't take long for my eyes to clamp shut, for my body to
stiffen. And it didn't take long for the powerful spurts of my thick,
grey-white jism to erupt across the sink.

Mom kept stroking me as I shot, even though my glans was super-sensitive
right then, and my body twitched and jerked each time her hand passed over
it. She milked me dry with her fingers, squeezing the last, sluggish drops
of cum out of my withering prick, and I was almost ashamed to look at her.
My legs were shaking from the intensity of the orgasm and I wilted against
the edge of the sink.

When she was satisfied that my ejaculation was over, she looked down at a
thick smear of my cum in the palm of her hand, raised it to her mouth, and
licked it off the way you might lick the blood from a small cut. "Mmmm," she
moaned huskily, "that's too good to waste."

She turned then, sat down on the toilet, tugged me in front of her, and took
my flagging cock in her mouth.

"Mom?" I asked stupidly. "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer. Her lips glissed forward and back on the shaft of my
prick a few times, then I felt her tongue wiping the residue of jizz off my
swollen glans. Amazingly, my cock started to stiffen again in the insistent
warmth and wetness of her mouth.

I looked down at her, but all I could see was the top of her head, and, even
as I watched, that head pushed forward again until the entire length of my
thick rod was crammed into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. And
the power her mouth had over me was unimaginable.

The tingly sensation seemed to start right at the head of my dick and
radiated out to the rest of my body; a sultry wave of darkness inundated my
brain, and the only thing I was aware of were those marvelous lips sliding
smoothly back and forth along the shaft of my rigid manhood; the only thing
I could hear were the slurpy noises coming from her mouth..

I tangled my fingers in her hair, my hands riding back and forth on her
head, and felt the pressure building in my groin again. I felt my cock swell
even further in her mouth, and, with a low groan that I couldn't control,
blew my nuts down my mother's throat.

Mom groaned, also - happily - and I could feel her tongue squishing my sperm
against the roof of her mouth, savoring the taste of it before she
swallowed. And she swallowed ra-pidly. Surge after surge of the thick, white
fuck spewed into her hungry mouth, and she chewed lightly on my rock hard
crank as the flood gradually diminished.

She used her lips to milk the last dregs of cum from my softening cock, then
came off the end of it and licked the heavy globules off my shaft. Her eyes
were shining brightly when she finally stood up.

She leaned forward then, smiling, and kissed me fully on the lips. I felt a
little repulsed at tasting my own cum on them. "God, that was good!" she
purred, looking squarely into my eyes. "I haven't had a load like that for a
long, long time."

"Mom, I ... "

"Get that mess in the sink cleaned up," she interrupted me, "then come
downstairs. I'll cook you some breakfast." She gave my cock one last squeeze
and slipped through the bathroom door as quietly as she had come in.

I sagged against the sink on trembling legs and regarded myself in the
mirror. "Jesus," I muttered to my reflection, "imagine being sucked off by
your own mother."

And, outside the door, my mother heard the words and smiled. It was going to
be good.

I came down the stairs slowly, not quite sure what to expect. The whole
episode of mom pulling my meat, then giving me the best blow job I'd ever
had, was unnerving. There just isn't a whole lot that can be said after your
mother drinks your jizz.

"Mom ..." I started, as I walked into the kitchen, but she held up a hand to
silence me.

"Let me talk first," she said evenly. She set a dish of bacon and eggs down
on the table, and lowered herself into a chair across the corner from me.

"Bobby, you know how your father's always on the road, right? You know how
he stops by every two or three weeks to drop off his laundry and grab a
quick piece of ass. ..."

"Mom!" I groused.

"Oh, come on," she replied. "Let's not be coy with each other. Not now. You
know it's true as well as I do. Maybe that's what I get for being a
trucker's wife. Anyway, the last time he was home, I found this in one of
his pockets." And she tossed a pack of Trojans out on the table in front of
me.

"What do you make of that?" she asked.

I frowned, looking at the torn, foil-wrapped package. "There's supposed to
be ..." and suddenly I caught myself, about to say something that would hurt
her feelings.

"Go ahead and say it," she prompted me. "There's supposed to be three of
them in there, right? And there's only two."

Sheepishly, I nodded.

"And what does that mean? I'll tell you what it means. It means that
sonofabitch is getting laid on the road, while I'm sitting here at home
doing without. And I've got needs, too, Bobby. Every bit as strong as his."

"It's not right, mom." I said, nodding my head toward the pack of Trojans. I
was at a loss for words. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she said pensively. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about
that. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, except I can't
really see myself bringing home somebody from the office, or picking up some
stranger at a singles bar."

She leveled her eyes at me across the corner of the table, then said what
had been on her mind for a long time. "I've been thinking about you and me,
Bobby. If we could manage to get together, I wouldn't have to go prowling
around like some bitch in heat, you know? It would be right here at home,
where it's comfortable and familiar. And I already love you, for Christ's
sake. What could be so wrong about it?" I didn't respond. There was just too
much to think about.

"Don't try to tell me you don't need it as bad as I do," she continued.
"I've seen the wet spots on your sheets when I change them. I've seen the
girlie magazines under your mat-tress. Why can't you get it from me instead
of some inexperienced, little teeny-bopper under the bleachers?"

"It's against the law, mom," I said finally.

"Fuck the Goddamned law!" she blurted. "How are they going to know, if we
don't tell them?"

And I had no answer for her. How, indeed?

"Look, Bobby," she said, laying her hand on my thigh, "I'm not a prude when
it comes to sex, okay? I'll do anything you want anytime you want it. I've
already shown you that I'll suck your cock. If you want to fuck, we'll fuck.
If you want to eat a little pussy, that's fine with me. If you want to fuck
me in the ass, we can do that, too. Anything, anytime, any-where. And I mean
that."

I don't think she had any idea what her words were doing to me, and I didn't
know how to tell her. "Jesus, mom!" I moaned.

She stopped talking then and squinted at me, trying to figure out what was
wrong, and her eyes went wide with surprise when the understanding of it
finally hit her.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured. "You're getting fired up just talking
about it!"

She slid her hand up my thigh, bringing it to rest on the growing bulge
inside my jeans. Deftly, she unzipped my pants and pulled my burgeoning cock
out into the open.

"This is for me?" she asked, gazing at it dreamily. "Just from talking?"

Dumbly, I nodded my head.

"You do have a nice one, Bobby," she purred. "What do you want? More head?"

"No," I croaked. "I want ... I want to fuck you, mom! I want to have it in
your pussy."

She stood up then, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the skimpy bikini
bottom, pushed it down over the flare of her hips, and stepped out of it;
one long leg, and then the other.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her pussy; the delicate, pink cunt lips
protruding slightly from the soft down at the juncture of her thighs, the
tiny pearls of moisture clinging to them, glistening in the morning
sunlight. My cock swelled even further in anticipation.

"That's funny," mom said softly. "That's what I want, too."

Without another word, she stepped across me on the chair, held the engorged
head of my member up to the dewy opening of her cunt, and lowered herself
onto me with a gasp of pleasure.

I could feel her cunt lips opening up to accept my girth, and the slippery
tightness of her as she slid slowly down on my cock. A fraction of an inch
at a time, I entered her, and her quim molded around my prick like a tight,
oily glove. The sensation of having her hot flesh gripping my rod so tightly
sent shivers of delight coursing through my body.

"Oh, my God, mom!" I breathed. "This is wonderful!"

"Better than my mouth?" she whispered close to my ear.

"I ... I don't know. It's a different feeling. I don't think anything could
be better than your mouth. Does that sound strange?"

"Not at all," she purred. "Men always like being sucked off better than
fucking. And women like sucking them, too - having the power to make a man
spurt in their mouths whenever they want - but this is what makes a woman
cum, Bobby; having a stiff dick or a long tongue rammed up their cunt."

"Are you going to cum, mom?" I asked.

"Jesus, I hope so!"

She started riding me then, rocking her hips and grinding her clit against
the base of my shaft. Her beautiful tits were swaying up and down, a scant
inch in front of my face, and, without asking permission, I shoved her tee
shirt up and took one, erect nipple between my lips.

"Oh, yes!" she groaned. "Suck it, baby! Suck it!"

Her cunt muscles contracted down around my prick when I laved her nipple
with my tongue, clasping me tightly, and she started plunging up and down on
me furiously, sluicing my rock hard crank in and out of her steaming hole.

It occurred to me that there were other areas on her body that were just as
sensitive as her breasts. I slid my hands up her thighs, touching her where
we joined, and felt her shudder against me. Then, my fingers wet with her
juices, I reached behind her to touch the tight rosebud of her ass. That
puckered, little orifice seemed to dilate of its own volition at my touch
and, very tentatively, I slipped my middle finger into it up to the first
knuckle.

"You want to fuck that, don't you?" she asked quietly.

I took her hard nipple out of my mouth and smiled up at her. "You said I
could."

"No one's ever had me there, Bobby," she breathed. "You'd be the first, and
it's been a fantasy of mine for years to be fucked up the ass."

"Well," I smiled up at her, "do you want to make your fantasy come true?"

Mom gave me a knowing smile, lifted herself off, letting the head of my cock
come out of her dripping cunt, shifted forward slightly, and lowered herself
again until the head of my turgid prick was pressing warmly up against her
asshole.

"Take it slow," she crooned. "Give me time to relax."

The heat emanating from the tight ring of her ass was incredible, almost
searing the head of my rod, and I could feel her pushing slowly down against
it. Little by little her tight sphincter muscle relaxed and my swollen
cockhead eased in past its grip.

"You're in!" mom giggled. "You're in!"

Very slowly she lowered herself onto me, her breath catching in her throat
as my stiff shank penetrated her incredibly tight anal passage. It was an
entirely different feeling than either her mouth or her cunt had given me,
and I reveled in the new sensation.

"I can feel it in front!" she hissed. "It's delicious!"

Her asshole was intensely tight and hot, and it took several minutes before
I had pushed into her all the way. When we could both feel that the entire
length of my cock was im- bedded in her ass, we simply sat there, savoring
the sensation, letting the waves of feeling sweep over us.

After a long moment, mom lifted herself again - a fraction of an inch - then
pushed back down and immediately had a shuddering orgasm. She arched her
back, rotating her hips against the immense cock that was shoved up her ass,
and clutched me tightly to her. "That is so good!" she purred. "And I've
wanted it for so long!"

She lifted again, experimenting with the feeling, testing the fit, and
started rocking slowly, against me working my cock up and down in the tight
sleeve of her ass. She pressed her lips to mine then, her tongue warring
with mine, and went into a series of shuddering orgasms, one after another,
that made her frantic in my arms. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, and she
bucked up and down on top of me, driving the full length of my thick shaft
into the mystery of her anal passage with a ferociousness that I would never
have expected from her.

"I ... I'm going to cum. mom!" I rasped close to her ear. And then it was
there: heavy bursts of jism, jetting painfully up the length of my cock,
erupting deeply into the heat of her ass, the low animal groan escaping my
throat. My head lolled backwards onto the chair as the shock waves of
release gripped me, shook me, and mom's head sagged against my shoulder as
yet another orgasm seized her body. When it was finished we just sat there,
overwhelmed by the experience, dazed by the intensity of it, trying to
regain control of our bodies, our breathing. And we didn't talk; there were
no words to describe it.

We were kissing passionately, my cock slowly shrinking in her freshly fucked
ass, a puddle of cum drooling out of her and into my pubic hair, when we
heard the harsh blast of a truck's air horn as it passed on the highway.

Mom's eyes snapped open with alarm. "Jesus Christ!" she gasped. "Was that
your dad?"

"Sounded like it to me," I replied.

We were both aware of his habit of blaring his horn every time he drove by
the house, and we both knew he had to drive another two miles to the county
road, turn off, then drive the two miles back on the graveled access road.

We had, at the very most, four minutes.

"Damn!," she muttered. "We can't let him catch us like this! You take the
upstairs bath-room, I'll use the one down here. And, Bobby?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"Not a word of this."

She lifted herself off my slippery prick, held the bottom of her bikini
against her ass, and sprinted toward the downstairs bathroom. For the second
time that morning, I took the stair two-at-a-time.

I washed quickly, stuffed my flaccid manhood back in my pants, and was back
down at the front door just as the big eighteen-wheeler pulled up in front.
Dad climbed down from the cab, fished his laundry from one of the side
compartments, and walked stiffly toward the house.

"Can't stay long," he said, setting his laundry bag on the floor. "An hour
or so. I've got a dock time in San Francisco that I can't miss."

"You want some breakfast?" mom asked. Somehow, she had managed to get
completely cleaned up and dressed in that short four minutes.

"Sure thing," he said, giving her a duty kiss. "Bobby, can you wash my
windshield off for me?"

I recognized his request for just what it was - an excuse to get me out of
the house for a while - and headed for the garage thinking about that
partially used pack of Trojans.

By the time I got back to the house, dad was gulping down a plate of bacon
and eggs with mom sitting across from him sipping a cup of coffee.

He was a real piece of work, dad was: always wearing a plaid, flannel shirt
and a Forty Niner's baseball cap so he'd fit in with the other drivers. He
had it figured out that, if he brought home a paycheck every now and again,
he was fulfilling his responsibility of taking care of the family. And he
couldn't have been more wrong.

"What are you hauling?" I asked him.

"Load of furniture from South Carolina," he said around a mouthful of eggs.
"Then I've contracted to make a couple of runs up the Alcan Highway to
Fairbanks."

We feigned interested in his words, mom and I, nodding our heads at the
correct times, but neither one of us really gave a damn. We would have two,
maybe three, weeks of being alone together once he left again - two, maybe
three, weeks of uninterrupted fucking and sucking - and we could hardly wait
for it to begin.

He stood up finally, handed mom a check, and stretched his back. "Gotta
roll," he said. "If I miss my dock time, I'll be deadheading it till
tomorrow."

"I understand," mom said weakly. "Bobby, would you get the bag of your dad's
clothes from the hall closet?"

I handed him the bag, trying to figure out what kind of man it took to drive
off down the highway, leaving his wife alone at home, needing him. Needing
someone. And then it hit me that I was wrong. Mom didn't need him at all.
She had me!

He shook my hand lightly, gave mom another duty kiss, and was out the door.

Mom stood in the doorway like a good, little trucker's wife should, with me
close behind her, watching as he walked across to the tractor-trailer rig,
climbed in, and fired it up.

"So," I whispered close to mom's ear, "did you make love?" Dad couldn't see
it, of course, but my crotch was shoved up against mom's ass, and she was
rubbing herself back against me ever so lightly.

"No. I told him I was having my period. I don't think he'll miss it - not
with the game he's playing. Besides," she said, sliding her hand down
between us to fondle the growing bulge in my jeans, "when I make love I want
it to be for love, not because of some obligation that doesn't mean anything
anymore."

"I'm glad."

"Jesus, you're hard!" she murmured. Without being seen, she unzipped my
jeans and pulled my raging prick out into the air.

"I can hardly wait till he's gone," I said.

Mom squeezed my cock knowingly and leaned her head back on my shoulder.
"It'll only be a few more minutes," she whispered.

Softly, slowly, she started stroking my enraged cock, her movements
completely hidden from dad's view, and I felt as if I was going to cum right
there in her hand.

We watched the truck lurch forward, saw dad give us an off-hand two-fingered
salute out the window, and then he pulled away in a cloud of dust. Mom
closed the door even before he was out of the yard, dropped to her knees,
and gobbled my pulsating cock into her mouth.

I don't know if it was just that she wanted another heavy load of cum in her
mouth, or if she was doing it out of defiance to dad, but she wasn't fooling
around. Her tongue swirled around my swollen glans a couple of times, danced
crazily down my thick shaft, and she started bobbing her head back and forth
on it quickly.

I rocked my hips against her, fucking into her face every time she came
forward, and the sensation her lips were giving me was unbelievable. Again I
tangled my fingers in her hair, letting my hands ride back and forth on her
head as she sucked me, and the pressure behind my hard nuts built quickly.

Her lips were demanding, impatient, and it was only a few minutes before I
felt my balls starting to burst.

The blast of dad's air horn came to us, as he was going by on the highway,
and mom came off the end of my cock just as the first spurt of cum was
ripping up its length.

"Have a nice trip, you bastard!" she yelled at the door, and that first,
powerful jet of jism burst against her cheek.

She turned quickly, startled, gobbled down my spewing prick again, and took
the rest of my load in her mouth. I could feel her squishing my hot jizz
against the roof of her mouth, loving the taste of it, swallowing it
happily, and I smiled.

Our two, maybe three, weeks of privacy had started.

And we didn't intend to waste any of it.